


all this is not a coincidence

by jisungist



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Slow Burn, lots of cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisungist/pseuds/jisungist
Summary: Winter is on its way in when Jihoon finds him.





	all this is not a coincidence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [byunderella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/byunderella/gifts).



> trin, 
> 
> needless to say, i was quite nervous while writing this because you are The 2park writer, and this is my first time attempting them. i didn’t follow your prompt exactly, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless. i wish you happiness during this holiday season!
> 
> from,  
> your secret santa

Jihoon was never really expecting much.

Life isn’t a fairytale; all he wanted was a few kisses, a person to curl up in bed with, someone to talk to when he was sad—that’s all. So, it’s not that big of a deal when they break up.

He blows his next paycheck on his favorite brand of ice cream and that’s that.

“He didn’t deserve you, you know that, right?” Guanlin tells him when they’re having lunch at the mall on Sunday afternoon and Jihoon shrugs.

“Sure,” he says, and Guanlin smiles apologetically, and that’s that.

Jihoon’s been through breakups. He can go through another.

Jihoon’s been through breakups, yet none have left him literally chilled to the bone, and now it's mid-November and Jihoon’s replaced the hand in his with thrift store gloves.

His ex texts him on a Monday morning. He had barely been able to sleep the night before, so he’s a half an hour early for his Dance Theory and Composition class and sitting on a bench in the courtyard, his backpack resting on his knees and his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.

_♡: hey. some of your clothes r still in my closet you can come pick them up tomorrow if you want._

Belatedly, Jihoon realizes that he’d forgotten to change the contact name (or delete the number off of his phone entirely).

_jihoon: yeah. sure._

_daniel: thanks._

The truth was, Daniel _had_ deserved him. Jihoon isn’t better than him—Daniel had just fallen in love with someone else and Jihoon can’t blame him for that.

Sure, there’s still the sting of the wasted five months, but he's over it. He bites his lip, shutting off his phone and shoving it into his pocket. He’s over it.

But, just as he starts to get up from the bench, he hears a strum of a guitar from across the courtyard.

There’s four boys on the slightly raised platform in the middle of the grass—two guitars, a cajun box, a microphone—but it takes the crooning voice of the vocalist to make Jihoon look up.

And, because the world hates Park Jihoon, they’re singing a break up song.

It sounds like an acoustic version of some kind of 80s rock song and, in any other situation, Jihoon would be captivated by their obvious talent but right now—right now, he kinda wants to cry.

Trying not to sniffle, Jihoon leans forward and buries his face into his backpack. He's sure he looks pitiful but he doesn't care at this point—sobbing in public would be worse, especially because he can't figure out why he cares so much in the first place. When the song ends, there's a smattering of applause and he hears one of the musicians announce something about another performance, but Jihoon doesn't unfold from the shell he's made for himself.

When Jihoon sits up again, he presses his hands to his face to scrub away the few tears that had gathered on his cheeks. He's ready to get up and go to class and forget that this all happened when the silence is shattered.

Another boy sits next to him on the bench, leaning his instrument case against the armrest, and Jihoon immediately recognizes him as one of the guitarists in the group that had performed, the one with the soft brown hair and the perfectly shaped face.

 _Shut up_ , a voice in his mind chides. Then it realizes that he's single now, and continues on its tirade.

Even though it's the hour of the morning in which everyone looks like literal hell, the boy has a natural glow that accentuates his features, although the frustrated expression on his face threatens to mask it. He's tapping on his smartphone through the thick gloves that he's wearing, and his nose scrunches up further every time it fails to work, and Jihoon suddenly finds it _funny_.

It's amusing so he laughs, so quietly that the boy shouldn't have been able to hear him, but, because the world hates Park Jihoon, he does anyway.

The boy looks up, transforming from confused to annoyed and then to an expression that Jihoon can’t exactly read. “Excuse me?” he asks and Jihoon shrugs.

“You know you can just take your gloves off, right?” Jihoon suggests and the boy’s eyes narrow. He somehow still manages to look good, though, and it hits Jihoon’s ego somewhere deep.

“Let me live my life, stranger,” he grumbles. Jihoon’s having fun with this, so he's preparing to egg him on further, when the boy squints closer at his face. “Were you crying?” he asks, and it doesn't sound sympathetic at all, which Jihoon finds rich coming from one of the people who'd made him cry in the first place.

“So?” Jihoon says defensively. “What's it to you?”

The boy looks up from his phone and smiles. He has a snaggletooth that pokes out with the grin and Jihoon thinks he might be absolutely screwed. “You're too pretty to cry,” the boy replies, voice light and teasing, and Jihoon—

Jihoon is absolutely definitely screwed. His face heats up and the boy laughs gleefully while Jihoon tries not to be mortified.

“It's nice to meet you—” The boy leans over to catch a glimpse of Jihoon’s ID card hanging off of his backpack. “—Park Jihoon.”

“You're the worst.” Jihoon replies dumbly.

The boy just laughs again and stands up, slinging his guitar case across his shoulders. “I'll see you around,” he finishes, and makes his way across the courtyard from where he came.

Jihoon is absolutely, definitely, without a doubt, screwed.

* * *

 

At one in the afternoon, the specific kind of help that he needs can usually be found in the back table of the dining hall, so Jihoon doesn’t waste any time in getting there.

He pulls out the chair opposite the person he’d been looking for and sits down, slamming his hands on the table. “I need a name,” Jihoon asks, and Bae Jinyoung looks up from his lunch, laughter twinkling in his eyes.

“Spill,” Jinyoung says, and though Jihoon might hate him, Jinyoung is still his best friend, so Jihoon does.

Jinyoung quietly listens to the story about the boy in the courtyard, and when Jihoon’s finished, he takes a deep breath in and _laughs_.

Jihoon scowls. “Fuck you, Bae Jinyoung,” he says, but Jinyoung goes on giggling to himself until he suddenly looks at Jihoon seriously.

“Listen,” Jinyoung starts, even though that’s the last thing Jihoon wants to do right now. Jinyoung doesn’t care though, he just chews obnoxiously on his food while Jihoon is forced to wait for his probably unnecessary comment.

This is why he likes Guanlin better.

Finally, Jinyoung swallows and points his spoon at Jihoon. “I’m not saying that you have a crush on someone two weeks after your breakup,” he says, “but you have a crush on someone two weeks after your breakup.”

“I’m not looking for your expert opinion on my love life,” Jihoon replies.

“Right,” Jinyoung concedes. “But you do need it.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Just give me his name. For science.”

“Sexual science,” Jinyoung pipes up.

“I will murder you,” Jihoon spits back and Jinyoung spares him a smirk before looking down to type something on his phone.

“Woojin,” Jinyoung says and the name snaps Jihoon into place.

“What?” he asks stupidly.

“His name is Park Woojin. He's in your year. A dance major, I'm highly surprised you don't already know him,” Jinyoung comments and Jihoon scowls.

“How do _you_ know him?” he presses.

“The lead singer of that little group? His name’s Daehwi. We’re friends,” Jinyoung explains.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “You? Having a friend?” Jinyoung, on the outset, was always on the shyer side and generally kept to himself. It's when you got close that he showed his true colors (vicious, unrelenting, _evil_ ) but most knew him as the quiet kid in the back of the class.

Jinyoung himself doesn't let Jihoon’s comment dissuade him. “Well, I'm sorry that I don't fall in love with every attractive person that I see,” he says and Jihoon gapes.

“I—” Jihoon splutters. “I _don't_.”

“I never said that you do,” Jinyoung points out. “But you just confirmed it, didn't you?”

“I literally despise you,” Jihoon replies.

Jinyoung puts his hand on his heart dramatically. “Hey, I provide you with all the information you need, and this is how I get treated? Chivalry is dead.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “As much as I’d love to bicker with you all day,” Jihoon starts, “I have class in twenty minutes.”

“Good luck,” Jinyoung says sweetly, but there’s obvious teasing behind it, so Jihoon flicks Jinyoung off and gets up from the table, slinging his backpack around his shoulders and making his way out of the dining hall.

Park Woojin. It sounds nice. Jihoon had never liked that he shared a family name with so many people, but Woojin’s name sounds nice, and it echoes in his head like the aftermath of a ringing bell.

But Jinyoung is wrong about him. Sure, Woojin was good looking, but Jihoon’s still fresh out of a relationship and he isn't anything more than curious. Fuck Bae Jinyoung.

Still, he makes a note to buy the kid dinner one day. He does, after all, know his stuff.

* * *

 

That evening, Jihoon, as usual, finds himself in the dance studio. He should be working on the creating the choreography for a piece he needs to perform next week, but he can’t focus on the music playing from his phone.

He has an idea of what’s distracting him but Jihoon’s always been great at running away from his problems—probably why none of his relationships have ever worked out—so he doesn't think about it. Sure, Park Woojin is a good looking kid and Jihoon can't get that smirk out of his head, but he can't, he shouldn't, fall in love so easily.

So, he takes the memory of this morning and locks it in the corner of his mind. That is, until the door swings open.

A cold breeze rushes in and Jihoon’s only in a short sleeve shirt so it jars him out of his thoughts. “Can you close the fuckin’ door?” Jihoon asks, annoyed, and the door shuts with its signature creak.

“Sorry about that,” an oddly familiar voice says and the lock Jihoon had put on the memory snaps.

And there's Park Woojin, in all his glory. He's bundled up in a jacket and scarf, the latter of which he pulls off while he turns to face Jihoon. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and Jihoon immediately hyper focuses on how he runs his tongue across his chapped top lip.

“Oh, it's you,” Woojin says, and smiles, throwing his bag down against one of the mirrored walls. Jihoon suddenly wishes the studio wasn't so empty at this hour.

“Why are _you_ here?” Jihoon blurts out, even though he knows. Woojin just raises his eyebrows.

“To dance, obviously,” Woojin replies, and goes to unzip his jacket. The shirt he's wearing underneath is sleeveless, revealing lean muscles and tanned skin. Jihoon chokes.

“Can you not?” he asks, rearranging his expression into an annoyed grimace. He's trying, he really is, but Bae Jinyoung’s words are coming back to haunt him (they always do).

“It's a public setting, Park Jihoon,” Woojin says. The jacket is thrown alongside his bag and he sits down to stretch out his legs.

“I have a right to free speech, Park Woojin,” Jihoon snaps back, looking down at him triumphantly, until he realizes what he’d said.

Shock flickers across Woojin’s face for half a second; his eyes go wide and his mouth parts and Jihoon wishes he didn't notice. “You know my name?” he asks and Jihoon crosses his arms to hide his nervousness, tilting his chin up.

“I have sources,” he proclaims, and the surprise vanishes off Woojin’s face, replacing itself with mirth.

“Sources?” Woojin has a weird sort of laugh, more of a cackle than anything, but it's good—or would be, if Woojin wasn't currently making fun of him.

“Don't _laugh_ ,” Jihoon hisses in return, but Woojin just grins at him.

“What else am I supposed to do?” he replies and reaches to touch his toes, spine bending so his forehead touches his knee. Jihoon reins his mind in before it runs wild.

“Leave!” He kind of realizes how stupid he sounds, but he's already dug himself into a ditch that he can't get out of.

“No can do,” Woojin drawls, so casually, not even making eye contact, but Jihoon feels his cheeks flame up anyway.

“Stop doing that,” he whines and Woojin looks up at him, eyes glittering.

“Doing what?” he asks, with innocence dripping in his voice, and Jihoon kind of wants to scream.

“Fuck you,” Jihoon replies and turns away, plugging his headphones in his ears. He's so flustered and he hates it, he hates how it takes him no time at all to fall victim to someone’s charms. So, he drowns himself in the music he was assigned. Behind him, he hears Woojin shift and move further down into the studio to start his own routine. He tells himself that he won't look back.

But, Jihoon’s always been painfully curious, so it doesn't take more than twenty minutes for him to take a peek at what Woojin’s doing.

The answer, Jihoon learns, is everything.

It’s almost scary, how good Woojin is. The music he's playing is unmistakably hip hop and Woojin smoothly transitions through at least four different styles of dancing. When the beat drops, the breakdancing comes out, Woojin’s legs sweeping over the floor like it's the easiest thing in the world. Jihoon’s aware that he's staring hard but he can't look away, especially not when they make sudden (electrifying) eye contact.

Then Woojin loses his balance, shattering Jihoon’s daze. Woojin comes crashing to the floor, and Jihoon’s heart leaps to his throat, but he sits up a second later, looking virtually unharmed.

“Are you alright?” Jihoon asks, a bit warily, because he _had_ told Woojin to get lost less than half an hour ago, but Woojin just nods.

“You know,” Woojin starts and the sincerity in his voice startles Jihoon. “I'm sorry. Like if I made you uncomfortable or something.” Woojin looks him in the eye and Jihoon opens his mouth to voice his confusion, but Woojin just plows on. “The whole flirtation thing, I’m not really like that. It's just that—” he stops suddenly and visibly swallows, pausing a second before finishing. “I mean, I’ll make it up to you.”

Jihoon’s taken aback. It's the most he’s heard Woojin talk in one go and the pure honesty of it all doesn't fit into Jihoon’s original perception of Woojin.

“It's fine,” Jihoon says. His voice comes out stiff and he flinches. “It's okay, you didn't make me uncomfortable. It's fine,” he repeats, and immediately, Woojin relaxes and smiles. The tension in the room seems to bleed away in an instant.

“That's good,” he replies and hops to his feet. “I'm still sorry, though.”

“Don't be,” Jihoon replies, and this time, his words come out smoothly, and he shoots a grin at Woojin. “It was kind of cute.”

Woojin groans and Jihoon laughs delightedly. It's fun, the kind of back and forth thing that they seem to have formed so quickly. Woojin is fun, lighthearted and good looking, and Jihoon thinks that, maybe, he could live with this.

“Let’s start over.” Woojin announces, walking over to Jihoon and sticking his hand out. “I'm Park Woojin, nice to meet you.”

“This is dumb,” Jihoon replies and Woojin scowls.

“Just do it, alright?” Woojin replies and Jihoon laughs, before shaking Woojin’s hand. His grip is firm and his skin is warm and Jihoon really needs to stop thinking.

“I'm Park Jihoon,” he says, and Woojin smiles wide, the smile that reveals his crooked tooth and Jihoon’s heart crumples in on itself. It's too much, too much for one day. Too much Park Woojin.

Or maybe, maybe just not enough.

* * *

 

When Jihoon wakes up the next morning, he regrets everything. Woojin’s number is in his phone and he’d promised that they could hang out sometime and Jihoon regrets wanting more Woojin because Woojin, he decides, is bad for his health. Woojin is like sugar syrup, tasty in small amounts but absolutely awful in the long run.

There's little logical reasoning behind it, but since when has that stopped him?

So, when he catches a glimpse of Woojin at lunch that day, his first thought is to hide. Moving on instinct, he ducks behind a vending machine, peeking around the corners to spot the other boy. He's talking animatedly, with the one that must be Jinyoung’s friend, Daehwi.

Jihoon thinks about what would happen if Jinyoung found out about the situation he was in right now, and suddenly wants to die.

But he's not risking anything, so he freezes until Woojin is no longer in sight. Then, for good measure, he waits five minutes before slipping out of his hiding spot.

Yeah, call him crazy. It's not the first time he's heard it.

Jihoon finds an empty table in a corner of the dining hall and pulls out the math homework he's been procrastinating on all week, determined to finish it. Woojin’s face in his mind threatens to distract him but he manages to shove it away long enough to finish three problems.

Then, someone sits in front of him, and Jihoon looks up to find that Woojin’s face is no longer a figment of his imagination.

“Hi, Park Jihoon,” Woojin greets, a tray of food in his hands. Jihoon barely resists the urge to bang his head on the table.

“What are you doing here?” Jihoon asks, masking the frustration in his voice as the one that must be Daehwi takes the seat next to Woojin.

“You look bored and annoyed and I’m the opposite of that at the moment, so I figured you wouldn't mind the company,” Woojin replies and grins. Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“It's fuckin’ calculus, man. I have no clue what any of this means,” he complains.

“Here, let me see,” the one that must be Daehwi says suddenly and Jihoon raises an eyebrow, wordlessly sliding his notebook and pencil over. Daehwi peers at the homework for a few seconds before scribbling something down and pushing the notebook back. “Does that make sense now?”

The next few steps of the problem are written in Daehwi’s neat handwriting and oh. That was a lot easier than Jihoon thought. “Wow, thanks,” he says and then something occurs to him. “You're Jinyoung’s friend, right?” he asks. “You're a year younger.” Daehwi nods. “Then, how do you know how to do this?” Jihoon challenges.

“Daehwi’s a genius,” Woojin supplies helpfully and Daehwi shrugs.

“Everyone’s a genius compared to Woojin,” he tells Jihoon and Woojin, looking affronted, elbows Daehwi. Jihoon snorts.

“I try to be nice to you for once in my life, and this is how you treat me? I see how it is,” Woojin replies and Daehwi smiles cryptically.

“I've been friends with Woojin for like ten years. I have the right,” Daehwi explains.

“Why are you talking as if I'm not here?” Woojin groans and Daehwi laughs, dropping his head into his hands, shoulders shaking with mirth. Jihoon decides that he likes Daehwi, if only for the reason that he doesn't make Jihoon feel out of place.

“Oh!” Daehwi chirps suddenly, looking up and rising to his feet, calling someone over to the table. “Hey, losers!” he yells to two boys crossing the dining hall.

“Respect your elders, you brat!” one of them shouts back. His shock of bright red curly hair stands out in the sea of college students and Jihoon suddenly remembers him as one of the members of Woojin’s band.

Daehwi just snorts in reply as the two make their way over to the table. The curly haired one takes a seat next to Jihoon, shooting him a quick smile, while the other circles around the table to sit down next to Daehwi.

“Well,” Daehwi announces with a flourish, “meet my other idiot friends.”

The boy next to Daehwi doesn’t flinch. “Hi,” he greets, reaching over the table to shake Jihoon’s hand so rather assertively. “I’m Kim Donghyun.”

“Park Jihoon,” Jihoon introduces himself, as Donghyun releases his fingers.

“Oh,” Donghyun says, smiling. “That’s you?”

“Uh,” Jihoon mumbles, a bit startled. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I've heard of you,” Donghyun explains and Jihoon raises an eyebrow. He’s about to ask how when the curly haired boy turns to him.

“Im Youngmin, nice to meet you,” he says, and shakes Jihoon’s hand as well. Jihoon nods in acknowledgement, and graciously turns back to his calculus homework.

He manages to get through most of it with the earlier help from Daehwi, and although the four boys bicker around him, they’re far from distracting. That is, unless Woojin leans over to tell a joke, grinning brightly, and Jihoon has to look away to mask the smile on his face.

Youngmin and Donghyun only stay for about twenty minutes, though, and they get up from the table when Jihoon’s finishing his last problem. “As much as I’d love to talk more,” Donghyun starts, which earns a chorus of boos from both Woojin and Daehwi, “this guy owes me a lunch date,” he says, jerking his head towards Youngmin. Jihoon looks up, blinks at the word, as Youngmin just rolls his eyes fondly.

“Have fun, lovebirds,” Daehwi replies, sugary sweet, and Woojin snorts into his pasta salad. The gears speed faster in Jihoon’s head when Donghyun floats to Youngmin’s side and take his hand, using his free one to make a dismissive gesture in Woojin and Daehwi’s direction.

“Hope to see you again, Jihoon,” Youngmin says kindly, and Jihoon nods, before the two of them make their way out of the dining hall.

In the second of silence that falls over the table, Jihoon clears his throat awkwardly, pointedly looking down at his now-closed notebook. “So, they’re, like,” he says awkwardly, but Daehwi cuts in faster than he can blink.

“Boyfriends?” he finishes for him, and Jihoon looks up. “Yeah, they are.”

Jihoon must have a strangled look on his face because Daehwi’s eyes narrow and harden. “Are you—” he starts to ask but Jihoon jumps to defend himself.

“No, no, of course not,” he blurts out, his mouth speeding ahead of his thoughts. “Like, I like guys too—“ _Great job, Jihoon,_ _coming out to your possible object of interest and someone who you’ve barely known for a half an hour was a great decision_ “—but I was just wondering...” he trails off. He wonders when God will take pity on him and smite him down from the heavens.

What he was wondering before he managed to embarrass himself so deeply is how Youngmin and Donghyun manage to be so open about their relationship. Jihoon’s always found it hard to respond to public displays of affection, even though he sort of looks like the type to enjoy that. He loves attention, don’t get him wrong, but there was something about being so...vulnerable in the open that didn’t sit right with him.

In the midst of his reverie, he unintentionally looks up at Daehwi, who looks way too amused. “Don’t freak out,” he reassures, and Jihoon tries not to look offended. “It’s fine. Those two have just been together too long to really care about what’s going on around them.”

Screw Daehwi being a genius. The kid’s a fucking mind reader.

The two of them leave too, a few minutes later, but Jihoon is still rooted in his spot by some unknown revelation. Suddenly, he realizes that Woojin, during Jihoon’s moment of weakness, had said absolutely nothing. He racks his brain for a second about it; maybe Woojin had been put off by Jihoon’s accidental straightforwardness.

Or maybe, maybe he had just been too focused on his pasta salad to care.

* * *

 

Three days later, when Jihoon walks into his Expository Writing class five minutes late, Park Woojin is sitting in Jihoon’s usual seat. The class isn’t all that small, so the professor doesn’t make a fuss when Jihoon sneaks in, but she does notice when Jihoon starts hissing at Woojin, who's stifling laughter.

“If you're going to come in late, at least don't create a scene, Park Jihoon,” the professor says and Jihoon gawks, before quickly finding an empty seat a few rows closer to the front. Jihoon could have sworn that this professor didn't even know he existed, much less his name.

Jihoon sinks low in his seat, pulling his phone out of his pocket and furiously typing out out a text message.

_jihoon: i despise you_

He swears he hears a snort from Woojin’s general area, and then jumps to silence his phone when it vibrates in his lap.

_p woojin: mood_

_jihoon: i didn't even know u were in this class wtf_

_p woojin: there's a lot u don't know about me, my young padawan_

_jihoon: i’m older than you, asshole_

_p woojin: by like six months so. irrelevant_

_jihoon: so??? how did u even find out where i sat??? storytime: i accidentally made friends with a stalker???_

_p woojin: lol_

_p woojin: i have eyes, n you’re not rly subtle_

_jihoon: i skip like thirty percent of the time??? how am i not subtle???_

_p woojin: :-)_

_jihoon: don't :-) me u loser_

_p woojin: :-) :-) :-) :-)_

Jihoon’s ready to shoot back with another response, but he feels the professor eyeing him again, so he tucks his phone back into his jeans and starts copying down notes from the slides. He's not sure why the back of his neck burns for the rest of the class period, but when they’re dismissed, Jihoon is more than elated to get the heck out of there. Woojin joins him on the way out; that's expected.

“You can have your seat back next week,” Woojin says, and it would have been a nice gesture if it didn't sound so sarcastic, and Jihoon scowls before aiming a random slap at Woojin’s arm, who dodges it easily.

Woojin smiles at him graciously. “I’m going to the dance studio,” he says. It's obvious what he's implying, even to an outside source, and Jihoon shrugs.

“Sure,” Jihoon replies. He still has to finish choreographing for his music selection. The assignment is due in a few days now; he curses himself for his procrastination.

Because it's a late Friday morning, there's more people than there were on the night that Jihoon and Woojin met, and Jihoon knows practically all of them. He greets Taedong and Donghan, and the latter jumps onto the opportunity of distraction like a moth to flames, until Taedong drags him back, giving him an exasperated look.

“Sorry,” Taedong apologizes as Donghan whines about having the worst boyfriend ever and “ _do you want me to die of_ _exhaustion?_ ” and Jihoon just laughs. “We have a deadline,” Taedong explains.

“I'll leave you to that, then,” Jihoon replies and gives Donghan a smug look; the other boy makes a rude gesture at him from behind Taedong’s back.

Jihoon spots Woojin talking to Eunki and Zhengting, who are always folded over each other in rather not-safe-for-work ways. Woojin doesn't seem perturbed by the PDA though, and Jihoon wonders how everyone he knows is gay.

(He's not entirely sure why Yoojung and Doyeon are indiscreetly slipping into the supply closet but he's also not sure if he wants to know.)

Also in the studio, surrounded by a healthy amount of admirers, is one Ong Seongwoo. Jihoon pointedly ignores him; there's no need for him to fraternize with his ex’s boyfriend, even if he doesn't have any bad feelings towards him.

Yet he, like everyone else, finds himself transfixed by Seongwoo’s skills, and when the music ends, his audience cheers. Seongwoo bows, and Jihoon wonders how everyone he knows is _so damn extra_.

“Hey,” Woojin says, having suddenly materialized next to him. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon replies, focusing his attention on stretching out his legs. “Sure.”

Woojin, as it turns out, is a great dance partner. He's attentive, pointing out the smallest mistakes in Jihoon’s choreography, and while that could seem like nitpicking to others, Jihoon is a perfectionist when it comes to dance. Woojin watches Jihoon perform his routine over and over again, from where he's leaning against the mirrored walls and typing something on his laptop.

“You're the one who wanted to come here in the first place,” Jihoon says when he realizes that Woojin has barely danced in the half an hour they've been there.

Woojin smiles at him thinly. “I have an essay due tonight. Plus, I didn't want you leaving your assignment to the last minute.”

Jihoon tries not to feel touched, and deflects the odd feeling in his stomach back onto Woojin. “Hey, you're the one who's procrastinating. You have an essay due tonight.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “Who ever practices what they preach?” he says and, well, he has a point.

Morning turns into afternoon by the time that they leave and Jihoon’s listening to some story Woojin’s telling while pulling on his jacket near the entrance.

“So then Youngmin—” Woojin starts, but then cuts himself off, his voice going uncharacteristically blank as he looks behind Jihoon.

“Hey, Jihoon,” Seongwoo’s somehow familiar voice says, and Jihoon quite literally gets whiplash spinning to face him. He looks weirdly concerned, and he lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Do you want to get coffee? I have something to talk to you about.”

Jihoon’s not sure if he's ever had a conversation with Seongwoo besides when the other asked him for notes from a class he’d missed and the one time that Daniel had come to pick up Jihoon after class.

“Um.” Jihoon flicks his eyes towards Woojin, who has an odd look on his face but shrugs noncommittally. “Sure, I guess,” he says, turning back to Seongwoo.

“Daehwi’s waiting for me in the dining hall, so I'll see you later, Jihoon,” Woojin says, and whisks himself out of there before Jihoon even has the chance to say goodbye. Honestly, Jihoon doesn't blame him.

Seongwoo clears his throat awkwardly. “So, shall we?” Jihoon just shrugs and they make their way out into the chilly afternoon. The distance to one of the campus cafes isn't too far, so they walk in uncomfortable silence. Jihoon almost tears up in relief when they reach and the person working the counter is none other than Lai Guanlin.

“Uh, I'll have a small cappuccino,” Seongwoo tells Guanlin, pulling out his meal swipe card. Jihoon mouths a silent “save me” and Guanlin gives him a concerned look, before punching in Seongwoo’s order.

Jihoon reaches in his pocket to find his wallet, and almost punches himself when he realizes that he’d left it in his dorm room. “Shit,” he curses. “I don't have my card.”

“You can use one of my swipes,” Seongwoo offers smoothly, and Jihoon very deeply craves death. “Pay me back another time.”

“No, that's fine,” Jihoon replies but Seongwoo doesn't budge.

“What do you want?” he asks and Jihoon sighs heavily.

“I'll just have regular hot chocolate,” he says and Guanlin adds it to the order slowly. “You can go find a seat,” Jihoon tells Seongwoo after he pays. “I'll get the drinks.”

“Okay,” Seongwoo says, a bit warily, but he drifts further down into the cafe anyway.

Once he's out of sight, Jihoon immediately crumples against the counter. “Guanlin, please murder me, I'm begging you,” he moans and Guanlin pats Jihoon’s shoulder gently in an attempt to comfort him.

“What could Ong Seongwoo want with you?” Guanlin mumbles, sort of to himself. Jihoon opens his mouth to reply, but he can only manage a strangled noise.

“It's okay,” Guanlin tells him. “It can't be that bad. And if it is, I'll get Dongho to throw him out, alright?”

For being younger than him, Guanlin is a shining beacon of light in the murky darkness of Jihoon’s rational thinking skills.

“What about me?” Dongho asks as he passes behind Guanlin to pump whipped cream onto a drink.

“Nothing,” the two of them say in unison. Then Ahn Hyungseob down at the end of the counter calls the order number, and Jihoon is subjected to cruel fate.

“Okay, listen,” Seongwoo says, before Jihoon even has a chance to take a sip of his drink. “I know what you’re thinking.” Jihoon’s face goes deadpan, but Seongwoo goes forward undeterred. “What kind of person goes to lengths to fraternize with their boyfriend’s ex?” he asks rhetorically.

“Surprisingly spot on, Ong Seongwoo.” Jihoon’s not a mean kid, not really, but he’ll wield sarcasm like a shield if he needs to.

Seongwoo, however, isn’t the type to take the time to listen to undertones, especially when he’s a man on a mission. “I just wanted to know if you’re cool.”

“Cool?” Jihoon asks, though he has an idea what Seongwoo’s getting at, and apprehension is fading into amusement.

“Cool with me and Daniel,” Seongwoo explains. “You guys didn’t break up that long ago so—“

Jihoon holds in his laughter to the point that his stomach aches. “Bro, I genuinely don’t care,” he says and Seongwoo’s mouth snaps closed. “Daniel’s a good guy, but I'm way over him.”

“Oh,” Seongwoo says. “Well, that's good.”

“Yup,” Jihoon replies and takes a long sip from his hot chocolate. Seongwoo, as confident as he is, looks a tiny bit embarrassed and Jihoon takes pity on him. “How's it going with him?” he asks.

Seongwoo lights up. “It’s great, really. He's a good guy,” he says, echoing Jihoon’s earlier comment. “What about you?” Seongwoo asks. “Found anyone else?”

Jihoon thinks of Woojin. “Nah, not really,” he lies.

* * *

 

The first day of December that year brings snow, blanketing the university’s rooftops and grass gardens. Jihoon’s own gathered statistics determine that at least a third of the school skipped classes that morning, content to sleep in or create misshapen snowmen in the open space behind the dorm buildings.

Jihoon had no classes scheduled that early anyway, so he wakes up at noon like a true college student, with his stomach growling in hunger. His roommate, a kid named Mark who seemed nice but he wasn't really close with, is working quietly at his desk, so Jihoon says good morning before heading into the small bathroom they share.

When Jihoon finishes his shower and he's sitting on his bed drying his hair with a towel, Mark suddenly spins around from the desk. “Hey, Jihoon?” he says.

“Yeah?” Jihoon replies, pausing and letting the towel drop onto his head.

Mark taps on his chair in apparent nervousnesss before asking, “Do you mind leaving for a while?”

Jihoon shrugs. “Sure, but why?”

“My….boyfriend….is coming around,” Mark explains slowly and Jihoon snickers. “Don't laugh,” Mark warns, pointing his pencil at Jihoon before turning back to his work.

“No judgement here,” Jihoon replies, and he flings the towel on the back of his own desk chair and grabs his phone and wallet before opening the door leading into the hallway. “Have fun,” he teases and he can hear Mark’s groan as he shuts the door.

There's a few options for him now: eat alone (undesirable), eat with Jinyoung (slightly undesirable, all Jinyoung’s been doing lately is making fun of him), or call up Woojin to eat with him (desirable, but stressful).

Still, Jihoon doesn't have much ego to lose at this point, so he pulls out his phone and dials Woojin’s number while taking the stairs down to the bottom floor of the dorm building. It rings a total of four times before Woojin picks up, and the first thing thing Jihoon hears is a strained cough.

“Jihoon,” Woojin says in means of a greeting, his voice weak.

“Wow,” Jihoon starts. “You sound like shit.”

Jihoon can almost imagine the scrunched up frown on Woojin’s face. “Hey, shut the fuck up,” Woojin says. “I woke up feeling like hell, it's not my fault.”

“Damn,” Jihoon says. “Did you take any medicine?”

“I ran out,” Woojin groans. “I haven't even gotten out of bed, I think I’d die trying to leave the house.”

Jihoon frowns, worry crinkling his forehead. “Have you even eaten anything? Can your roommate to get you something? What about Daehwi?” he asks all at once and Woojin sighs audibly.

“Not yet, I don't live in a dorm, and I'm not sure, he said he was hanging out with someone last night and he hasn't talked to me since,” Woojin replies and that's all it takes for Jihoon to make up his mind.

“Where are you?” he asks, lingering by the building exit.

“What?” Woojin replies.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “I'm coming to save you, loser.” It's a bold move like most moves Jihoon makes because he's too impatient to take things slow.

“Bro,” Woojin says. “You really don't have to.”

“Bro,” Jihoon copies. “I practically got sexiled anyway, I have nowhere to go.”

Woojin snorts. “Wow, how did you manage to get sexiled at twelve pm?”

“That's irrelevant,” Jihoon dismisses. “Just tell me where you are right now.”

“Ugh,” Woojin groans, as if _he_ was doing _Jihoon_ a favor when Jihoon was just trying to make sure he didn't die. “I’ll text you the address.”

Jihoon grins, even though Woojin can't see it. “By the way, how did you manage to live off campus as a sophomore?”

“It’s a secret,” Woojin drawls and Jihoon laughs, before swinging open the door and heading out into the cold. It's only halfway to the location that he realizes that they never hung up the phone, so he pulls his phone out of his pocket and says Woojin’s name warily, only to get no response.

He leaves the phone on anyway, as he takes a detour to stop by the drugstore, picking up medicine and food. Jihoon’s always felt he was a good partner in that regard; physically caring for someone came easy to him.

The call has been on for nearly a half an hour by the time Jihoon reaches the apartment building and he double checks Woojin’s room number before heading up two floors to find it.

Outside the maroon painted door, Jihoon wonders if he's going too fast.

But this is about sickness, not about love, so he knocks anyway.

It takes a few minutes for the door to open and, honestly, Woojin does look like hell, still in his pajamas with messy hair and flushed face. “I fell asleep on the phone call,” he explains when Jihoon steps inside, and then proceeds to cough his lungs out.

“Go lie back down, Park Woojin,” Jihoon says, passing through the small hallway-like foyer and putting the bag he's carrying down on the kitchen table, which sits the middle of a carpeted area with the kitchen adjacent to it. Woojin just frowns and sits down on the worn armchair across from the table, crossing his legs under him.

“Did you walk all the way here? It’s cold outside,” Woojin says.

“It's no big deal,” Jihoon responds, unpacking the microwaveable soup and taking it into the kitchen.

“I'll pay you back,” Woojin continues, a bit weakly. Jihoon thinks Woojin’s resistance is kind of cute.

“I said it's no big deal,” Jihoon repeats and then, sensing that Woojin was about to protest again, continues speaking. “Who do you live with here?” he asks.

“Youngmin, Donghyun, Daehwi,” Woojin says, expectedly. “They're all not here right now because they hate me and have love lives.”

Jihoon hums, punching in two minutes on the microwave. “What's Daehwi’s love life?”

He isn't looking but he knows Woojin’s probably shrugging. “He's into that Jinyoung kid, I think,” he says and Jihoon almost chokes. “Hey, don't you know him?” Woojin asks.

“Too well,” Jihoon replies. He makes a mental note to ask Jinyoung about it next time they see each other.

“Anyway, yeah,” Woojin finishes as the microwave dings, so Jihoon takes out the bowl with careful fingers.

“Eat and then take the medicine,” Jihoon instructs and Woojin sets his tissue box on the floor to accept the food. Jihoon sits on one of the dining table chairs facing Woojin, feeling a bit awkward now.

“Thanks for coming,” Woojin says, amid the spoon in his mouth. Tomato soup dots the corners of Woojin’s lip.

“No problem,” Jihoon replies, and marvels at the brightness of Woojin’s eyes.

“You can stay if you want,” Woojin offers, voice quiet. “It's cold outside.”

“Okay,” Jihoon says. He marvels at how Woojin can be a spitfire outside but seems so subdued in his own home.

Or maybe, maybe it's just the sickness.

(Woojin is asleep on the bottom of the bunk bed that him and Daehwi apparently share. Jihoon is nursing a cup of coffee and trying not to stare, but his eyes snap to Woojin whenever he shifts under the sheets. It's then that Jihoon realizes they'd never ended the call.)

* * *

 

Days later, Jihoon’s still thinking about it; at this point, though, there's little time that Jihoon isn't thinking about Woojin.

Woojin and Daehwi had just left the dining hall for class when Jihoon’s phone rings with a song that he hasn't heard for a while, and he almost drops his phone in his rush to pick it up.

“Jisung,” Jihoon greets amicably. “Let me know, for the _thousandth_ time, why you set SNSD as my ringtone for you.”

“Because I love you,” Jisung replies cheerily and hearing his voice makes Jihoon realize how long it's been since they last talked.

Jihoon scoffs. “So, to what do I owe the honor?”

Jisung doesn't waste any time getting to the point. “Do you, by any chance, know how to drive?” he asks and Jihoon raises an eyebrow.

“It's been awhile, but yeah,” he replies and he hears Jisung sigh in relief.

“Good, so do you remember the password to my garage?” Jisung asks.

“You care to tell me what this is all about?” Jihoon responds.

After a pause that’s probably Jisung rolling his eyes, he says, “Me and Daniel are stranded at the grocery store and I need you to get my car and pick us up.”

Jihoon falters. “Oh.” He hasn’t seen Daniel except in passing since they broke up; he’s over it and he knows that but there’s something about meeting an ex that never feels right.

Jisung, even through the phone, can read his thought process—he always can—so he drops his voice to a more serious tone. “I mean, if you're fine with that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jihoon says, recovering quickly. “It's fine, I'm free anyway. I remember the password.” It’s Daniel’s birthday: 1210. Jihoon had needed to use it once for something similar.

“Thanks, kid, I really owe you something,” Jisung says and Jihoon grabs at the opportunity to lighten the mood.

“Give me your PS4,” he jokes.

Jisung snorts. “On your _life_ ,” he replies.

Jihoon grabs his backpack from the floor and starts walking towards the exit. “Not exactly sure how you got stranded at the grocery store,” he comments, “but I’ll be there soon.”

“It’s a long story,” Jisung says. Jihoon doesn’t doubt it; Daniel and Jisung were always known to do stupid things together, even though Jisung was technically supposed to be the mature one.

“Oh, and by the way, why me?” Jihoon asks, just out of curiosity.

“Honestly?” Jisung replies. “Because neither Minhyun or Sungwoon picked up.”

Jihoon pauses. “Yeah, that’s understandable,” he replies, and ends the call. He checks the time quickly and suddenly the date sticks out to him. It’s December 10th.

Jisung lives in a small house about a mile off campus—he’s years older than the rest of their friend group, so him and Daniel live together while Jisung works (a desk job for now, but Jihoon knows he’s auditioning for films) and Daniel attends school.

Luckily, the university’s bus system comes semi close to the location, so Jihoon takes it as far as possible before walking the rest of the way. He punches in the code for the garage which opens with a creak and he goes into the house for a second to grab Jisung’s keys. The car is shitty, at best, but Jihoon makes do, making sure to close the garage before pulling out.

The inconvenience of the grocery store is a complaint of everyone at the university, and Jihoon understands why when he drives twenty minutes to get there. He spots Jisung and Daniel immediately, as loud and obnoxious as they are, sitting on a bench right outside the entrance, and he pulls up as close to the curb as possible.

“Get in, losers!” he calls, rolling down the windows and Jisung turns his head around towards the car.

“Get out of my seat, Park Jihoon!” Jisung replies, grabbing a few of the several plastic bags that surround the two of them and walking towards the car.

“I get shotgun,” Jihoon says instantly.

“I’m older than you,” Daniel complains from somewhere behind him, opening the backseat of the car and tossing the rest of the groceries in. Jihoon laughs and gets out of the driver’s seat to cross the front of the car, dodging Jisung’s grocery bag swing.

“And who dragged their ass out here to save you two from hypothermia? Me, that’s who,” Jihoon retorts.

“Well,” Daniel says. “Fair enough.” Jisung opens the other backseat door and puts his groceries in as Daniel resigns himself to his fate and gets into the back. Jihoon takes shotgun gleefully but he’d sadly forgotten how bad of a driver Jisung is.

“You're a mess,” he says when Jisung whips around the first turn.

“Don't use my childhood trauma against me,” Jisung spits back, but somehow they make it onto the road, so Jihoon turns his teasing to Daniel.

“I can't believe you managed to get stuck in the supermarket on your birthday,” he comments and Daniel’s eyes widen.

“You remembered?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon replies. “Why wouldn't I?”

Daniel shrugs. “I don't know.”

“You're dumb,” Jihoon says. I didn't forget everything about you just because we haven't talked in a while, he doesn't say.

“Hey, Jisung,” Daniel calls, voice casual. “Can you drop me off at Seongwoo’s dorm?”

The look that Jisung shoots Jihoon is everything but casual and Jihoon just rolls his eyes. He honestly doesn't care anymore.

The twenty minute journey is repeated, plus a few more to reach the junior dorm building. “See ya,” Daniel says and Jihoon impulsively reaches back to give him a fistbump, which Daniel reciprocates easily. “Jihoon, let's hang out sometime.”

Jihoon swallows. “Yeah, sure.” They probably wouldn't, but that's fine too.

“You don't ask _me_ to hang out with you,” Jisung whines and Daniel just laughs before getting out of the car and closing the door.

As soon as Daniel is out of sight, Jisung opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Jihoon jumps to his own defense. “ _Don’t_ ,” he warns.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I can guess,” Jihoon shoots back, and Jisung shrugs, jerkily making a left turn.

“I won’t then,” Jisung says. “But you know you can trust me right?”

Jisung, for the joker than he is, probably gives the best advice out of everyone Jihoon knows. He calls it experience; Jihoon calls it old age.

Jihoon sighs and looks down at the cup holder next to the car door. “It’s not like I haven’t moved on, but I kinda feel like,” Jihoon pauses, not knowing where to go. “I mean, there’s this guy—“

“Ah,” Jisung says knowingly.

“Shut up,” Jihoon replies, and Jisung laughs, waving his hand to gesture for him to continue. “So,” Jihoon starts again, clearing his throat loudly. “There's this guy, and I can't figure out what to do. I'm not sure if I'm reading it wrong.”

“Do you like him?” Jisung asks.

“I'm not sure?” Jihoon says, voice questioning. “This is going to sound dumb but you know how liking someone’s supposed to be all guns blazing, like fireworks right in your face? With him, it's more like I've been friends with him my whole life.”

There's a few seconds of silence. “That doesn't sound dumb at all,” Jisung replies.

* * *

 

Finals pass in a blur; Jihoon spends a week or so locked up in the library trying to cram material into his brain, only taking breaks to go to class or to the dance studio to practice for his practical exams.

Woojin comes to visit Jihoon’s camping spot from time to time, but he’s doing his own work in another corner, and Jihoon wonders why college solely consists of procrastinators.

Still, he somehow passes all of his tests, and then the break is upon them. The week before Christmas is made of packed bags and guileless farewells.

Jihoon doesn’t leave, though. There’s always been something more for him here than back home, so even if he’s alone, he stays.

“So, will you come?” Woojin asks him, and Jihoon blinks, trying to rack his mind for what the other boy was saying.

“To the Christmas thing?” Donghyun supplies helpfully, and then proceeds to steal a French fry off of Woojin’s plate, causing an unnecessary scuffle.

“Oh, yeah,” Jihoon says while Woojin tries to grab his fry back, to no avail. The band apparently snagged a performance spot at a cafe in the city on Christmas Eve night, and since Youngmin’s birthday was Christmas Day, they’d planned a little get together afterwards. “I’ll be around.”

Jihoon wasn’t particularly _into_ the holiday season like most people, but the cafe’s ambience was bright and airy despite the cold weather, and the five of them manage to find a table together before it gets too crowded.

“What if—” Youngmin starts for the thirtieth time and Daehwi puts his head into his hands and groans.

“Stop,” he pleads. “We’re not going to catch typhoid before we go on stage. Your hypotheticals are infuriating.”

Jihoon can't help but laugh at Daehwi’s outburst, and he shares a look with Woojin, who’s snickering as well. Youngmin just frowns down at his sandwich and Donghyun reaches across his table to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“It’ll be fine, don’t be nervous,” Donghyun says calmly, and Woojin rolls his eyes obviously. Youngmin sighs loudly but manages to curb his insecurities while the first few performances of that night roll by.

The four shuffle up closer to the front of the cafe where the stage is when the performer before them starts to set up and Jihoon joins them for no good reason. He's sure he's seen the boy that's on stage right now with the guitar, but it doesn't click until Donghyun speaks.

“You know, if I didn't love you so much, I'd probably have a crush on Jung Sewoon,” Donghyun says and Daehwi chokes on his water; Woojin thumps him on the back helpfully.

“That's disgusting,” Youngmin replies. “But, honestly, same.” Daehwi, having recovered, groans.

Jihoon moves closer to Woojin to say, “You guys are really close, huh?” Woojin just shrugs.

“I thought you were gonna say weird, but I guess so,” Woojin replies. Jihoon muffles a laugh as Woojin continues. “I mean, we’re kind of like family, as gross as that sounds.”

In the somewhat packed room, Woojin is almost shoulder to shoulder with Jihoon. Jihoon doesn't reply to Woojin’s comment, finding himself suddenly distracted. Woojin’s hand is inches away from Jihoon’s and Jihoon curls his hand into a fist to prevent himself from reaching out for it.

Sewoon starts singing on stage and Woojin’s eyes drift to the stage, but Jihoon can't take his eyes off of Woojin. He's being stupidly obvious, he knows, but Woojin looks peaceful listening to the guitar strum, the way he did on the day Jihoon stayed with him in his apartment.

Woojin, in a way that Jihoon can't quite describe, looks like home.

The song ends too soon, and suddenly Woojin’s heading towards the stage. Jihoon steps forward too quick and reaches out for his hand, brushing it lightly. Woojin turns around, eyes questioning.

Jihoon swallows. “Good luck,” he says and Woojin smiles brightly at him while he tries to control the butterflies in his stomach.

Then Woojin grabs his guitar and he's gone.

It takes a few minutes for the four to get set up but when they do, Daehwi clears his throat and leans into the mic. “Hey guys, we’re called Brand New, and we have a self composed song to perform tonight,” he says confidently. “I hope you all enjoy.”

Jihoon wonders what Woojin looks like under actual stage lights, because, right now, he's already practically glowing. From what Jihoon has seen, Woojin’s made for performing in a way that he himself would never be. Jihoon’s always been complimented on his “charm” but Woojin’s stage charisma is something to be in awe over, which is why it's so amusing (or adorable) when he's so awkward in life.

Woojin’s eyes slide over to make contact with Jihoon, and the song begins.

Jihoon can't look away, even when Daehwi starts singing, soft vocals backed up by the two guitars and Donghyun’s smooth harmonies. Even when Woojin drops his eyes to focus on the strings he's playing. Even when he steps closer to his microphone and starts _rapping_ in a quiet but rough tone, with Youngmin’s steady cajun box beat behind him. Even when the song’s over and everyone's clapping.

“They’re good, aren’t they?” Jung Sewoon says from behind him.

“Yeah, he is,” Jihoon replies.

Youngmin and Donghyun appear first, and Sewoon offers them a quiet compliment, which makes Donghyun light up.

“Hey,” Donghyun says to Sewoon as Daehwi and Woojin join them. “It's Youngmin’s birthday tomorrow and we’re having a little get together later tonight, if you want to come,” he says and Woojin nearly bursts into laughter next to Jihoon.

Sewoon shrugs. “Sure, I guess. Nothing better to do,” he says and Donghyun gives him the address. After Sewoon takes his leave, Youngmin turns on Donghyun like lightning.

“You're so _weird_ ,” Youngmin says. “We barely even know him.”

“It's not weird,” Donghyun replies. “I just have confidence, which is something you clearly lack.”

“We've known this,” Daehwi says and Youngmin opens his mouth to say something when he's cut off. “But we’re already late, so if you guys don't stop talking, we’re gonna leave people stranded in the cold outside our house.”

“Everyone’s probably going to be late,” Jihoon points out.

“That's not the point,” Daehwi replies. No one has the energy to argue with Daehwi, firstly because he's right and secondly because he's stubborn, so they drag their instruments out through a side door to where Youngmin had parked their van.

“I still can't get over the fact that you have a van,” Jihoon says as he watches them load things into it. “It's so edgy teen movie esque.”

“If you can't help, at least shut up, you freeloader,” Woojin calls loudly from where Jihoon can't see him and Jihoon snorts. When Woojin hops out of the back, he flings a drumstick at Jihoon who barely dodges and then throws it back to hit Woojin in the arm. Woojin’s gearing up for another throw when Youngmin yells at them from inside the car and drags Woojin back in to retrieve his drumstick.

As if for punishment, the two of them are stuck in the back together while Daehwi gets the third open seat. Jihoon's next to Woojin again as the van bumps along, and their shoulders touch every once in a while. Jihoon can’t bring himself to pull away.

When the car suddenly swerves to the left, Jihoon isn’t prepared, and he goes sliding across the floor to where the guitars are hanging on the opposite wall. And Woojin, who Jihoon’s been avoiding touching all night, brings his hand out to close around Jihoon’s upper arm, pulling him back and keeping him steady.

“I got you,” Woojin says. Jihoon feels Woojin’s fingers burning stripes into his skin and wonders how he’s so affected.

Then they stop with a jerk, and a few seconds later, Daehwi opens up the doors.

“Youngmin almost killed us,” Woojin whines, letting go of Jihoon and hopping out into the cold air, and Daehwi rolls his eyes in Jihoon’s direction.

The decorations in the apartment are a bit extravagant, but once Jihoon learns that Donghyun had planned them, it isn’t all that surprising. By a quarter to eleven, the house is packed with probably more people than the amount of friends that Jihoon has had in his life. Unsurprisingly, Woojin is dragged off somewhere else, so Jihoon spends a good half an hour moping on the couch and nursing a beer. When Sewoon shows up, he gives Jihoon a cryptic smile, until he’s enveloped by Youngmin’s bear hug. Jihoon doesn’t question it.

At some point in that half an hour, a guy named Jaehwan—Jihoon thinks he’s heard of him through Minhyun once or twice—ends up next to him, and he’s clearly smashed, judging from the way he keeps laughing inexplicably. Jihoon is good at ignoring things like that, though, so instead he leans back and continues staring at Woojin, who’s talking to Bae Jinyoung, the same Bae Jinyoung that’s now pretending Jihoon doesn’t exist because he found out about his crush on Daehwi.

“So, which one?” Jaehwan asks from next to him, and it takes Jihoon a good few second to realize the question is for him.

“Which what?” he replies.

Jaehwan smirks, but the illusion is broken when he hiccups. “You’re staring pretty hard at those two. Which one?”

Jihoon hates inebriated people, especially ones who are observant and don’t know how to shut up. “Why does it matter to you?” he retorts.

“It doesn’t,” Jaehwan says. “I just enjoy seeing young love at work.”

Jihoon hates inebriated people, especially ones who still make sense when they talk. “Well, it’s not the weird one,” Jihoon says, trying to be vague. The alcohol he’s had must be getting to him too because he’s not sure why he’s saying anything at all.

“Ohhh,” Jaehwan hums knowingly and Jihoon regrets everything. “You like Woojin?”

Jihoon goes red. “You better forget this shit in the morning,” he hisses.

Jaehwan pats his arm encouragingly. “It’s okay, my young friend. I know the trials and tribulations of pining well.”

“You’re so weird,” Jihoon says and Jaehwan shrugs. “I’m calling damage control.”

“And who’s that?” Jaehwan asks, amusement in his voice.

Jihoon turns his chin up and looks away, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Hwang Minhyun,” he replies.

Jaehwan pauses. “Wow,” he says. “Hwang Minhyun. What a guy, right?”

“Sure,” Jihoon says, clicking the number three for speed dial (the reason he has Minhyun on speed dial is a story for another day) and putting the phone to his ear.

“Great mouth,” Jaehwan continues in a sort of a daze while the phone rings. “Kinda wish he’d make out with me.”

Jihoon almost coughs up his lung, and of course that’s when Minhyun decides to pick up the phone.

“Jihoon,” he says. “Are you alright?”

Jihoon sucks in a breath to recover. “Your friend is drunk out of his mind and being annoying, please save me,” he pleads.

“Is it Jaehwan?” Minhyun asks, voice going weary, and somehow Jihoon gets the impression that it isn’t the first time this has happened.

“Yep,” Jihoon says. “You know where Im Youngmin’s house is?”

Minhyun sighs. “I’ll be there,” he says. “I’m sorry about him.”

Jihoon looks at Jaehwan, who’s saying something indecipherable to himself. “Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon replies. “Also,” he adds, “he wants to make out with you. Not really sure what that means.”

A few seconds of silence go by and Jihoon is about to hang up when Minhyun finally speaks. “Good to know,” he says, voice even, and ends the call.

“He’s on his way,” Jihoon tells Jaehwan pointedly, who honestly doesn’t seem all that concerned about his current situation.

“Oh,” he says. “Woojin’s alone.”

Jihoon’s almost embarrassed at how fast he looks. The boy in question is leaning against the wall under a doorway, seemingly lost in thought. Jihoon takes the last sips of his beer for strength before leaving his bottle on the table on the side of the couch.

“Good luck,” Jaehwan calls after Jihoon as he approaches Woojin but he doesn’t look back.

“Woojin,” Jihoon says when he’s close and Woojin looks, something like panic flashing in his eyes. He looks close to running and it’s probably the alcohol that makes Jihoon reach out for Woojin’s wrist and keeping him under the doorway. “Woojin,” he says again. “I have to—“

“Look!” someone (Jaehwan, Jihoon realizes too late) shouts way too loudly, cutting through all the noise. “They’re under the mistletoe!”

Jihoon, very slowly, looks up.

“Park Jihoon,” Woojin says, almost in a whisper, as the room bursts into laughter. “I am going to murder you.”

Jihoon tries to find the right words but instead he just splutters. “This is your fault! Why were you under it anyways?”

“How was I supposed to know you would come?” Woojin replies incredulously, but Jihoon’s brain has already drifted, trying to come to terms with the fact that Woojin’s lips might possibly on his within the next minute. He’s probably blushing harder than he ever has in his life.

But Woojin’s cheeks are flaming too and Jihoon’s stomach does a barrel roll.

“Stop fighting and kiss him,” another person says from somewhere, but Jihoon can’t bring himself to look away from Woojin’s glare.

Woojin grits his teeth. “Let’s get this over with then,” he says, and his hand, the one that isn’t currently in Jihoon’s vice grip, comes up to cradle Jihoon’s cheek.

It happens quicker than Jihoon can blink, a quick warm press to the corner of his mouth, barely even a kiss, but Jihoon misses it as soon as it’s gone.

He almost wants to pull Woojin back and kiss him properly, but then he’s jerked back to the reality that there’s thirty people around them, cheering and clapping.

When Jihoon drags his gaze up from the floor, he apologizes instinctively but Woojin pulls away too quickly, disappearing. No one seems to notice much, except for Daehwi, who’s pushed his way through the crowd. His look—a bit worried, a bit panicked—makes Jihoon nervous, and he turns quickly to follow the path that Woojin had taken.

Jihoon finds him in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk, and he stops at the doorway. Woojin looks up, eyes bright, and Jihoon takes that as permission to sit next to him. It’s at least a minute or two before Woojin speaks. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, his voice a bit strained.

“Don’t be,” Jihoon reassures quickly but Woojin shakes his head.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really good at things like that. Like, Daehwi’s the kind of guy who could kiss his best friend or something and then be totally fine with it the next day but—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon says. “That’s not weird at all. Just because your friends are like that, it doesn’t mean that you have to be too.”

“Oh. I thought—I don't know,” Woojin finishes with a sigh.

“We’ll just pretend it never happened,” Jihoon gives Woojin a smile, even though the spot where Woojin kissed him is still tingling.

Woojin looks significantly relieved though, so Jihoon doesn't mind much. “Thanks,” he replies, and then closes his hand over Jihoon’s as a gesture.

In that moment, Jihoon realizes this: he doesn't want to pretend like it never happened. He wants to take Woojin’s face in his hands and kiss him until they can't breathe anymore, but he swallows down his tongue and pushes the surge of feelings further down into his stomach.

“No problem,” he says and the smile he gets almost makes it worth it. He drinks it in like sugar syrup.

* * *

 

In the new few weeks. Jihoon realizes this: for someone who claims that they aren't a touchy person, Woojin sure seems like one. Jihoon feels suffocated every time that Woojin touches him, which is way, way too much.

They're walking to class one day when Jihoon realizes he forgot to bring gloves, but Woojin takes Jihoon’s hands and rubs warmth into them, right in the middle of the pathway leading to the campus building. When Jihoon’s practicing in the studio, Woojin guides his elbows and shoulders into the right positions. When Jihoon’s talking to Guanlin in the dining hall, Woojin actually legitimately curls his arm around Jihoon’s waist when he joins them.

Jihoon really can't figure Woojin out. This isn't new.

One afternoon, they're sitting in the library studying but Jihoon can't focus on school work when Woojin is drawing patterns onto Jihoon’s palm while doing readings.

Luckily, Woojin gives him a reason to be distracted. “So, are you trying out for the team this year?” he asks and Jihoon looks up from his notebook.

“What?” he replies eloquently.

“The dance team,” Woojin clarifies. “They're having tryouts next week.”

Jihoon knows. It's all Donghan or Eunki or anyone else in the dance department has been talking about for the past three weeks. “Nah,” he replies, trying to be as casual as possible. “Not really interested.”

“Oh,” Woojin says. He looks confused and Jihoon doesn't meet his eyes. “Why not? You're good enough.”

“It's too much work,” Jihoon explains and it's partially true. There's rehearsal after rehearsal, especially if he wants a solo, and it sounds bad when he says this but Jihoon isn't all that used to working hard. In high school, he had gotten good grades without that much effort and he usually just did the bare minimum to do well in university. People liked him and he didn't need to do much else.

He gets the sense that Woojin is the opposite. “Well,” Woojin says. “That's kind of lame.”

Jihoon’s also kind of shit with criticism. “What do you mean?” he asks even though he knows what the answer’s gonna be.

“I mean, you don't know until you try. Plus, you're a dance major. Shouldn't you want to join?” Woojin presses.

He has a point, because Jihoon does like dancing and he's good at it, but that's why he'd chose the major, not because he had some grand plan like everyone else on the dance team did, not because that's all he wanted to do in life. So Jihoon just shrugs.

“I think you should,” Woojin says, and does back to his work, but he's still loosely holding Jihoon’s hand and Jihoon doesn't want him to let go.

“Why?” he asks impulsively and Woojin looks up again.

“Because it's fun,” he says simply. “And I’m there.”

So, somehow, Jihoon’s roped along into this dance team thing, and he passes auditions easily; most people make it because the captain, one Kang Daniel, is too nice to cut anyone.

With Woojin’s additional urging, Jihoon tries out for a solo too, which is more difficult due to the nitpicky judging of Noh Taehyun. But he passes that too, which means he's in three dances for the showcase—a group one, his solo, and, oh yeah, a duo performance with none other than Park Woojin himself.

Practicing for that one is decidedly painful because 1) Jihoon isn't that good at breakdancing and 2) the dance requires skin contact, and skin contact with Woojin makes Jihoon feel like imploding.

Dance, however, is one thing that Jihoon understands about Woojin. He understands that Woojin’s passion for it knows no bounds, he understands that Woojin is even more of a perfectionist than he is and that it's his job to drag Woojin back home if he ends up practicing too late.

So even if Jihoon doesn't know why Woojin can hold him like he's important when the music is on but won't talk about kissing him, he knows that Woojin’s here to make Jihoon better and he's here to keep Woojin safe.

It's this revelation that brings him to Im Youngmin in a Starbucks on a February afternoon.

In Jihoon’s defense, he was planning to be smooth about it, but with freshly dyed dark haired soft eyed Im Youngmin staring right through him, the words come out in a rush. “I think I like your son.”

 _What_. That was not what he meant to say.

“I don't recall ever having birthed someone,” Youngmin says, taking a sip of his coffee while Jihoon tries to melt into the floor. “But I'm assuming you mean Woojin.”

“Uh,” Jihoon replies, attempting to recover the leftover shreds of his dignity. “Yeah.”

“Wow, thanks. Both Donghyun and Daehwi owe me twenty five now,” Youngmin tells him triumphantly.

“Really?” Jihoon says. “You were betting on me liking Woojin?”

“Nah,” Youngmin replies. “That part was super obvious. We bet on which one of us you'd talk to first.”

Jihoon groans and, even though Jihoon already feels like his soul is on the line, the way Youngmin smiles is a bit comforting.

“So?” he asks. “What did you want to say?”

Jihoon suddenly feels an impending sense of doom. “Well,” he starts. “Leaving out the part where I'm not even really sure whether he likes me back—” He isn't sure whether it's good or bad that Youngmin says nothing here “—I honestly don't know how to be in a relationship.”

“Really?” Youngmin asks, but it's amused more than questioning. Screw Youngmin’s comforting smile, Jihoon wants to wipe it off his face.

“Fuck you,” Jihoon says out of instinct. “I just thought that since you and Donghyun seem like you're going really steady…I wanted advice,” he finishes, cringing at his own question.

Youngmin doesn't seem to mind though. “Honestly, I've always been the steady type of person,” he says. “I hadn't dated all that much before Donghyun, but he was the type to...get around, I guess?”

Youngmin sighs a bit and stirs his coffee with a straw before continuing. “It wasn't smooth sailing at first. I would worry a lot, about not being good enough for Donghyun because I didn't know as much. I know this is cliché as fuck but being emotionally available and able to communicate is really important.”

“I think my problem is the being emotionally available part,” Jihoon confesses.

“I think your problem is that you don't give yourself enough credit,” Youngmin replies, surprising Jihoon. “Believe me, Daehwi wouldn't even let you hang around Woojin if he didn't think you had something that Woojin needed.”

“What does that mean?” Jihoon asks but Youngmin just shrugs.

“You want my advice?” Youngmin asks and Jihoon nods. “Focus on telling him first.”

Jihoon sighs, dropping his head onto the table. “I'm working on that,” he whispers, more to himself than to the dark haired soft eyed boy sitting across from him.

* * *

 

Jihoon, in fact, is not working on that. He keeps thinking about it, especially when they're practicing and Woojin’s hands are on his shoulders and his elbows and his waist, but telling Woojin that he likes him feels like suicide.

He thinks about what he said to Jisung, almost four months ago now. Liking Woojin isn't like fireworks at all, it's like a steady flame under his ribs, growing in intensity every time Woojin smiles or laughs or looks at him like he means something. Liking Woojin is like the heat of summer, pressing and inescapable. Liking Woojin is like a campfire under a starry sky, quiet laughter and the sweet taste of burnt marshmallows. Liking Woojin is like something he's never felt before.

Of course, he's thinking about all this at practice again, and he can't stop looking at Woojin’s lips, even when he's being berated for losing focus again. “Sorry,” he says for the fourth time that hour, even though he's really not because Woojin looks smoldering in that sleeveless top, especially when he's irritated.

They run the choreo again and again until Jihoon finally regrets it. He's screwed up the hardest move again and Woojin’s walking over again to help him up to his feet again and Jihoon is suddenly so tired of being stuck in a circle.

“Woojin,” he says as Woojin grabs his hand, and then he tugs the other boy down to the floor with him. Woojin makes a noise, starts to speak, but Jihoon cuts him off. “Please,” he whispers and Woojin’s eyes go from concerned to confused to serious in the matter of a second.

Before he can change his own mind, Jihoon takes his other hand and cups Woojin’s cheek in the very same way that Woojin had to him back at Christmas. He feels Woojin freeze under his touch and, to make his intentions clear, he drops his eyes very deliberately to Woojin’s mouth.

But Woojin still doesn't move, so Jihoon lets go of Woojin’s hand and rises to his knees, taking Woojin’s face in his hands just like he’d imagined. They're so close and Woojin’s eyes are closed and Jihoon only has to move an inch to press their lips together and—

And then all the fire in his veins is replaced with cold and empty familiarity. It's the circle again, the one Jihoon’s been spinning in for months now, and now his joints are locked in place with the fear that he's doing it all wrong.

So, he does what he does best, and lets go.

Woojin’s eyes blink open, slowly, and when he looks at Jihoon, he is unreadable. Jihoon's ready to explain himself, but Woojin just rises to his feet and holds out his hand to pull Jihoon to his feet.

“Let’s run it from the top again,” he says with a voice made of steel and Jihoon’s words die in his throat. He just nods, swallows the lump in his throat, and takes Woojin’s hand.

* * *

Seven excruciating days later, he gets a call from Bae Jinyoung. He’d spent the majority of the last week locked in his dorm and ignoring calls from most of his other friends, so Jinyoung is, for once in his life, a saving grace.

Of course, he takes that statement back an hour later, when he finds himself locked in his dorm room with not only Jinyoung, but also the one and only Lee Daehwi.

Jihoon’s not strapped down to the chair he's sitting in, but he sure feels like it, so before either of them start speaking, he raises his hand.

“Okay, so I have two questions,” he starts and Jinyoung just levels him with a look, so he continues. “First, are you two dating now?”

“Yes,” they say in unison.

Jihoon sighs. “Second, why do I feel like I'm being interrogated?”

“Because you are,” Daehwi replies cheerily.

“Oh, goody,” Jihoon says sarcastically. “I honestly don't know what you want with me,” he continues, trying to bluff his way out of it, but Daehwi isn't taking it.

“Woojin’s been moping around for the past week and I know you have too, so you better spill before I break your nose for hurting my best friend.” Daehwi’s words are slightly terrifying, but more than that, Jihoon catches the genuine worry underneath the threat, and the fact that Jihoon had hurt Woojin makes regret build inside him.

So he tells the two of them what had happened, slowly and carefully, but he keeps the details, like the warmth of Woojin’s skin and the flash of disappointment in his eyes, safe in his throat.

When he's done, Daehwi straightens in his seat, eyes clear and lips pressed together firmly. Jihoon’s always been a bit awed by the power of Daehwi’s presence, “Jihoon,” he says calmly. “I don't hate you.”

“Oh,” Jihoon replies. He hadn't anticipated how much that relieved him. “That's good to hear.”

“Woojin’s my best friend,” Daehwi says. “I know more about him than anyone else on this planet.” Jihoon nods, tries not to shrink under Daehwi’s gaze. “He's always been a pretty shy kid, not like you or me,” he explains. “That being said, I've never seen him open up to anyone quicker than he has to you.”

The comment makes Jihoon’s heart swell a little. He thinks of Woojin, supposedly shy Woojin, calling him pretty on the first day that he met. He thinks of Woojin kissing him under the mistletoe. He thinks of Woojin telling him how he’d learned to dance, he thinks of Woojin, letting himself be held, eyes closed and waiting for Jihoon to lean down, and then he gets it.

“I'm terrified,” Jihoon says, and it's probably the most sincere thing he's ever said in his life. He feels kind of stupid talking to two kids about his love life, but on the other hand, he's pretty sure Daehwi is more mature than his entire friend group combined, so that relaxes him a bit.

“Listen,” Jinyoung starts. “When I was in high school there was this kid I was in love with—”

“Uh, dude, your boyfriend is like right here,” Jihoon interrupts. Jinyoung gives Daehwi a look and Daehwi shrugs, making a gesture for him to continue.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Jinyoung says. “There was this kid. His name was Jaechan, which isn't really important. And I was so head over heels, it was kind of disgusting, honestly. But, anyway, I didn't tell him all of freshman or sophomore year and then when we were juniors, he got a girlfriend, so I kind of fell out of love.”

“And where's the relevance?” Jihoon asks but Daehwi and Jinyoung shush him simultaneously.

“Flash forward to graduation,” Jinyoung continues, “and he's still dating that girl, but before we leave, he tells me that he used to like me. So, if I had just said something, my first love wouldn't have been so tragic.”

“But, you have Daehwi now, so does it matter?” Jihoon presses and Jinyoung shrugs.

“I guess not, but what I mean is that you shouldn't let this go. Just because you're scared,” Jinyoung says. “It doesn't really matter what happens in the end if you don't even create a place for anything to start.”

Jihoon thinks about it for a second. “Wow, Jinyoung, hearing you say something intellectual is kind of new for me,” he teases and Jinyoung scowls, throwing a pencil at Jihoon from across the room, but he's smiling.

Jihoon’s smiling too. For once in his life, he knows what he's going to do next.

At the door, he stops, and turns for a second. “Daehwi, you're a really nice kid,” he compliments, and then jerks his head in Jinyoung’s direction. “He's lucky.”

Jihoon doesn't miss Daehwi’s grin before he pulls the door shut.

* * *

 

It's early evening by the time Jihoon works up the courage to go to the studio, but Woojin’s there; he always is, especially when he's stressed or sad.

Jihoon wonders when he'd learned that.

He pulls off his shoes and socks at the entrance, before entering barefoot on the hardwood. Woojin’s listening to something intently on his phone, and he doesn't notice Jihoon until he starts stretching in the middle of the floor. Woojin jerks, pulling his headphones out in one go, and Jihoon looks up at him from where he's touching his toes.

“Take it from the top?” he asks and Woojin, to his surprise, nods.

This time, Woojin makes every move purposeful. He makes every touch feel like lead and he makes goosebumps raise on Jihoon’s arm and when his hands circle Jihoon's waist, he brushes his fingers under Jihoon’s shirt and across his hip bones.

Jihoon completes the hardest move of the dance perfectly.

“I think that was our best one ever,” Woojin says, breathless, after it's over, and he sinks down to sit against the mirrors. Jihoon is breathless for other reasons: the way Woojin smiled at him in the last sequence, the way Woojin glows when he's dancing, the way he makes Jihoon feel like he's in top of the world when they're together.

Jihoon sits next to him, still cautious, but he can't feel inhibitions in Woojin’s movements anymore. He stares at the other wall and watches Woojin from the opposite mirror like he always has, but, this time, Woojin knows it.

“Why did you flirt with me on the day we met?” Jihoon asks and Woojin blushes, putting his face in his hands. It's quite possibly the most endearing thing Jihoon has ever seen in his life.

“You were cute. I thought it was a good idea,” Woojin says. “Turns out I'm not great at that kind of thing.”

“Nah,” Jihoon replies. “You drive me pretty crazy.”

Woojin lights up. “Really?”

“Really.” Jihoon watches Woojin suck in a breath and bite the corner of his lip in nervousness. _Let me do that for you_ , Jihoon thinks.

Woojin beats him to it. “Can I kiss you?” he asks and Jihoon laughs.

“Like you even have to ask,” he replies and then Woojin’s in front of him, leaning over him and pressing their lips together messily.

Jihoon scrambles to get closer, clasping Woojin’s shoulders as Woojin’s hands come to rest on his hips. It's not ideal, but it's good for now, and it's not like Jihoon cares when Woojin’s tongue swipes across his lower lip and his hands slip under Jihoon’s shirt.

“Do I drive you crazy now?” Woojin asks quietly, and Jihoon knows he's being teased, but he can't do much more than kiss harder, press closer, not when he's been waiting so long for this.

Then Woojin drops his lips to Jihoon’s jawline and he's helpless. “For someone who can't flirt,” Jihoon says, voice straining when Woojin leaves a small mark on his collarbone, “you're not a bad kisser.”

Woojin pulls back, grinning, and he looks so good like that, with swollen lips and disheveled hair. Jihoon wants all of him. “I'm not as clueless as you think I am,” Woojin replies.

That's where Jihoon finds his opportunity. “Oh, you still have a lot to learn, my young Padawan,” he says, and tugs Woojin down for more.

(“Let’s go on a date,” Jihoon not-really asks, once they've made themselves look presentable again. Woojin laughs, and lifts their clasped hands to brush his lips against Jihoon’s knuckles; it sends his heart soaring.

“We have finals next week,” Woojin reminds him and Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“Who _cares_ about finals?” Jihoon protests but Woojin isn't backing down.

“Take me out after,” Woojin says, leaning in to kiss Jihoon once on the cheek.“You've waited all this time. What’s another week?”

“Forever,” Jihoon replies.)

* * *

 

The date does end up being after finals. Jihoon’s broke so they just go to the bowling alley and try to beat each other with equally horrendous scores. Woojin wins, but Jihoon will claim for months after that he let him.

Woojin had said goodbye outside of Jihoon’s dorm, after giving Jihoon one last kiss. He’d tasted like soda and bottled sunshine.

“I love you,” Jihoon had replied and he had lied before, because this is the most sincere thing he has ever said in his life.

Later, he’d wonder whether it was too soon for a confession, but Woojin had just smiled and said, “I love you too.”

This is what Jihoon thinks of at the showcase when they perform together, and Woojin can't tell him that he's not focused because he does everything right.

On stage, Woojin makes him love the feeling of dancing, and for the first time, he thinks that he might want to do this forever.

Afterwards is a blur, too many people and too many congratulations and all Jihoon can see is Woojin. _Forever is a long time_ , he thinks.

The bowling alley is one of hundreds of dates and the confession is one of hundreds of confessions, told over dinner or over breakfast or in the morning when they wake up or in the night when they go to sleep.

Jihoon has never really understood permanence; he doesn't know what it means to want to have something forever.

With Woojin, though, he gets it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ❤️


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